


The Brat Prince (Kissing Prompts)

by Whuffie



Series: Stranger in a Strange Land [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon Age - Freeform, F/M, Kissing, Romance, Sensuality, kiss prompt, romantic, the brat prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whuffie/pseuds/Whuffie
Summary: Set in an AU where Sebastian never made it to Kirkwall. Instead of maturing because of Elthina's tutelage, his personality was shaped spending several years in Ferelden, then helping fight the Blight. It's up to Alfstanna Eremon to influence the wily, misplaced, and often unmanageable prince of Starkaven.This is a series of connected drabbles with the theme kissing taken from a prompt list.Loghain doesn't survive the Landsmeet, so one chapter is ticked as having major character death.
Relationships: Sebastian Vael/Alfstanna Eremon
Series: Stranger in a Strange Land [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808023
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Kissing Discreetly

Princes weren’t meant for chastity and Sebastian was heartily thankful the Maker agreed. His divine intervention wasn’t orchestrated exactly how the Prince would have wished, but he had never shied asking Andraste’s help in a barroom brawl or to woo the heart of an interested maiden. Sebastian had naturally entreated higher powers for help when the Vael family decided to send him away to Kirkwall.

Tucked securely into the suffocating folds of the Chantry, he would be condemned to live out a life of chaste sobriety. Although he revered the Maker, studied the Chant and strove to do the right thing, the prince shrank from the notion of youth wasted inside candlelit Chantry halls. Shut off from the company of women and drink, his life would be over. Let him take his vows when he was older, as his grandfather had, and could devote his full time to the Maker’s service. That hadn’t seemed unreasonable to anyone except his parents. They insisted he be condemned to Kirkwall in spite of Sebastian’s pleading arguments.

He could think of no worse fate until the night he witnessed an ocean pitch into a violently hungry monster. Lighting lashed from sky to roiling waves, setting them alight for long seconds. Captain Leland, Maker keep his soul, had perished with most of the crew. He had been assigned from the Vael family as Sebastian’s personal guard, but no mortal could ever hope to battle the fury of the sea with a sword.

Sebastian wasn’t a sailor. All he remembered were screamed orders, and panicking people running across the deck. A massive, cold wave numbed his body as it slammed over him. A belly jarring sound of shattering wood competed with the pounding rain and screeching voices as icy water closed over his head. The shock was so severe he couldn’t move for several seconds and his muscles locked. Andraste spared him and he thanked her for knowing to swim. Kicking hard against hungry currents, he managed to break the surface, suck in air mixed with mouthfuls of salt water, and fought against drowning.

His next memory was being flipped over to his back on a sandy shore. People with strange accents picked him up, forcing water from his lungs, and assured him how fortunate he was to be alive. At the time, he couldn’t disagree, but that was before he learned landed in Ferelden. It almost made the Chantry seem palatable, but Sebastian resigned himself that a cold, muddy country was better than being left to rot in Kirkwall. His family would think him dead. There were times late in the night or as he knelt before a statue of Andraste in prayer that guilt gnawed at his conscience, but if he revealed that he lived they would surely send someone to collect him for the Chantry. The guilt didn't stay long. With freedom to visit any tavern or brothel he wished, all concerns were conveniently forgotten.

Unfortunately, brothels took coin. Stuck on the shores of the rustic dog loving people, he was forced to toil for wages rather than live from a considerable allowance. At first he wasn't especially good at it, but Bann Alfstanna kindly helped him find a place. There were few enough things he excelled at, but none could match his talent with a bow. As the youngest Vael, he'd also lead Starkhaven's militia. Alfstanna recently had the position of Bann forced upon her due to the death of her father. A practical woman, she set Sebastian to work. He advised her and eventually found a place similar to the one from his home -- with some exceptions. It was the first time he had to give orders to dogs, but the mabari were quick to win his approval with their guileless heroism. The same eventually came true of the soldiers. For all the barbaric reputation of Fereldens, he found them a proud and sensible people. They took to drills with no less enthusiasm than the Starkhaven militia he once trained to defend walls from invaders. None of it was too soon. Rumors of darkspawn raids grew more and more frequent. Few people openly spoke of it, but many feared the creatures might be once again assembling. King Maric had pardoned the Grey Wardens, but it was Sebastian's understanding the ancient order were still few in number.

Years passed and time brought a true Blight. Armies to marched Ostagar, where the king himself was to be there and stop the Archdemon. Sebastian never failed to do what was right. The darkspawn and the Blight made his concerns petty in comparison. Even if he were been able to, he would not have abandoned the people of Ferelden. He was only one man, and a foreigner. Even so, he'd become fond of his adopted country, and a Blight was something to unite everyone beneath the banner of the Grey Wardens. That was how legend and stories told it.

It was hardly easy, but hope became even more scarce when nothing went as planned. Ostagar was a disaster. The Wardens were murdered and the last one or two known to still live were hunted in every major settlement. The Blight spread league by league like a plague, making its way to the Waking Sea. Over the months, the brash young prince who cared little for anything except the pleasures of women and wine matured. Brothels lost their appeal when darkspawn were marauding over entire villages, slaughtering the innocent. Although Sebastian had no power or title in Ferelden, he pledged is bow and tactical education to the Bann who rescued him from the shipwreck.

Alfstanna. A smile lifted the corners of his lips as he casually leaned against the door frame, watching her deal with the rough Ferelden nobility. Their ways of ruling were often crude and backward to his Starkhaven sensibilities, but he was too well mannered to say such things aloud. Somehow it usually worked to keep the country running smoothly, and he couldn’t fault a system for crumbling under a Blight. Their king had also fallen without an heir.

The last situation always served as a personally uncomfortable reminder. Starkhaven was in the hands of his brother, and Sebastian had been initially banned because of the fear he'd sire a bastard. He had no children of his own. Watching Alfstanna as she spoke her mind candidly to some of her nobles about darkspawn relief and refugees was enough to make a band tighten across his chest. From there it went directly down, tugging at other regions. He would have been very willing to supply a few extra Starkhaven heirs with one particular Ferelden Bann. It would mean marriage, but the fact he was willing to entertain the idea was proof of the devotion she'd inspired.

A title, pleasing face and coin bought him any woman’s pleasures before Ferelden. When he first met Alfstanna, he found her a rare jewel in the muddy, smelly, canine infested country. As resilient, intelligent and beautiful as she was, he couldn’t help himself. It was natural for him to flirt, but she rebuffed him matter of factly whenever his advances became too romantic. He would back away. It had become like a courting dance between them.

They gradually developed a genuine friendship and there were times, particularly when she was under more stress than usual, she said or did something to assure him of mutual attraction. He often wondered if it was because she was Ferelden and didn’t know what to do about about him. The way she kept him guessing was half the allure.

She was dressed very similar to himself in practical, sturdy leather armor. Like the country, it was functional rather than decorative. That did nothing to deter his imagination or keep him from noticing the few lines which flattered her figure. He hadn’t lain with a woman since after the troubles at Ostagar. There wasn’t time, but he would have gladly found it for her. The idea alone had to be diverted before phantom desires became embarrassing.

Moving with casual grace past the exiting nobles, Sebastian stood beside Alfstanna. “It’s getting worse.” The words weren’t a question.

“I fear so. Lothering was only the beginning. Honneleath is overrun, Teyrn Cousland’s family is gone unless the youngest son is still alive with the Wardens. Arl Eamon’s wife grasps at straws. She’s sent the knights of Redcliffe searching for Andraste’s ashes in hopes of curing her husband.” A long sigh lifted her chest and she allowed Sebastian to put his hands on her shoulders. Touching his fingers lightly with hers, she gave them a gentle squeeze.

“We’ll start again tomorrow at dawn,” he promised somberly from behind her. The tension in her body made her taught as a bowstring beneath his hands. “We will see this through.”

“I know,” she agreed quietly.

Reaching around, he sensuously trailed his fingertips across her chin, tracing her jaw, reveling in the tiny tremor which trickled through her skin. Her breath came quicker as she leaned the smallest fraction closer to him, and he could feel her warmth through layers of leathers. The tip of his index finger paused on her pulse as it fluttered. Her eyes slipped closed as he gradually followed the path of her neck down to her collarbone, brushing the outside of his thumb against it. They had never before kissed, so he discreetly leaned in, placing his lips behind her ear. The tip of his tongue tasted her skin as he slowly and gently pulled her earlobe between his teeth. Her shoulders straightened toward him, and she looped her arm around the back of his neck. She said nothing, but his lips ghosted along the curve of her exposed neck. Another kiss began a very slow, gratifying path from below her ear to where her shoulder vanished inside armor. The softest, most promising sound of pleasure unwound from between her lips.

Putting both arms around her midriff, he enclosed her into an embrace. Without speaking, he leaned down to hook his chin over her shoulder. Sharing a long moment of comfort, they both stared into the fireplace. Before they parted, Sebastian took one of her hands and placed a chaste kiss in the center of her palm. “I will see you tomorrow, then.”

She was loathe to move but forced a nod. “Until tomorrow.”


	2. Kiss of Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kiss of Apology

“I should have conferred with you first.” Sebastian hung his chin, but watched Alfstanna with vibrant blue eyes. He spent enough time among the Starkhaven nobles to make a convincing spectacle of remorse, but she was often immune to his charm. It was not as if he lacked sincerity, but he felt what he had done was vitally important.

“Yes, you should have.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared daggers. “I would not have interfered. You know that, but I thought we were closer than this. You should have at least informed me.” Before he could argue she held up a finger for silence and to make the rest of her point. “There is also the matter of sending off my runner. She may only be one person, but you know what’s happening in Dragon’s Peak as we have this conversation. Anyone could be needed in these times.”

“I know.” He took a silent step closer to her, careful to maintain a posture of contrition. “I would ask your forgiveness. You know my family has thought me lost these past years and how heavily that weighed on me. We spoke of it many times, and I needed to send them word now that the Blight grows each passing day. They should at least know where I am.” Perhaps where he would die if Andraste deemed it necessary. He didn’t relish the thought of being taken to the Maker’s side before he’d seen thirty years, but the Ferelden people stood against the darkspawn from Teyrns down to humble farmers. He would make any sacrifice to help keep the people safe and his family had the right to know if he fell in war.

Alfstanna unlocked her arms, but the tightness in her mouth hadn’t slackened. “Considering Irminric, I suppose I can’t blame you. Not that I excuse you,” she added more severely.

“Has there been no word at all of your brother?” He subtly reached out to wrap his fingers around hers and draw her hand toward him.

“None.” She allowed herself to be be coaxed closer, shooting him a warning look. “He was sent to hunt a blood mage. The templars have heard nothing from him in months.”

Sebastian’s relationship with his siblings was far more strained than Alfstanna and her brother. It genuinely grieved him to think he put more worry in her life. “I am sorry for not discussing the letter to my family with you – and for borrowing your runner without permission.” He dared to look into her face. Now that they were inches apart, remorse retreated in the wake of cocky mischief.

“It’s a small thing,” she admitted as he snaked an arm around her hips. “Normally it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m over reacting.”

“You’re worried for your brother,” he acknowledged seriously, “and for Ferelden.” Their bodies were flush against one another, and he lightly pecked her lips with his.

Resting a hand flat against his chest, she turned her face, but didn’t step from his grasp. “This is hardly the time --”

“Is it not?” He kissed her temple, putting comfort into the contact. A series of light kisses on her the curve of her cheekbone made her turn toward him.

“You’re impossible.”

The angry edges were gone from her words and he kissed the outside edge of her mouth, lips caressing delicate skin with sensual relish. Her arms draped around his neck, and deft hands made an almost entirely chaste journey down her back and along her ribs. The tip of is tongue teased the corner of her lips as his hands cupped the firm, round curves of her backside. When their lips made full contact, the kiss deepened and Alfstanna boldly trailed fingertips past his hips. She arrived on his firm backside while he took a delightful, double handed grip on hers. She gave him a squeeze as she intensified the kiss even more, passionately taking him by surprise.

When they broke apart, their cheeks rested against one another and he laughed quietly in his rich, Starkhaven burr. “Saucy Ferelden minx.”

“Apology accepted,” she responded blandly, running a hand over his throat and letting it rest on the back of his neck.

He caught the other with his and kissed each fingertip in turn. “Good.”


	3. Kissing a Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing a Scar  
> Gore Warning  
> Character death (Loghain) warning

Ferelden politics were as barbaric as the spinsters and gossips in Starkhaven claimed. The Ferelden throne hung in the balance and everyone arrived at the Landsmeet armed in some capacity. It was shocking to learn the tales of brutal Ferelden “diplomacy” weren’t exaggerated. Alfstanna warned him it might come to combat, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Accusations brought against Teyrn Loghain became more and more damning as the Landsmeet went on. The tide turned toward Alistair and Sebastian’s keen eyes picked out dozens of nobles with twitching fingers moving toward weapons. The Landsmeet erupted into an indoor battlefield. Loghain’s supporters pitted themselves against Bryce Cousland’s youngest son and Alistair Therin. Chaos stormed the hall and the Wardens were at the center.

Sebastian’s bow flew to his hand and arrows noched with lightning trained precision. Such close quarters weren’t his expertise any more than the sword. His grandfather taught him the bow was a wise man’s weapon. A city could be defended without ever opening its gates. The speech had inspired the youngest Vael to rise at dawn and practice archery until he could fire an arrow through a visor slit from the ramparts. As an adult, he was effective, accurate and deadly at ranged attack. Cramped indoors and a sea of bloodthirsty nobles forced him into fevered new strategies, however.

Many of Loghain’s men fell to his arrows as the Sebastian stationed himself on the second floor, eyes on Alfstanna. Wading into the fray with double swords, she discarded her bow. Her training added blades made her more versatile, and he envied her for it. His arrows began to run low and their enemies swarmed up the stairs. He strained his rogue reflexes and often used the bow itself as a weapon when armored bodies closed in around him. It was the first time since the shipwreck he fought for his life.   
  
Had it not been for aid, he might have fallen in battle, but Alistair rammed his way up the stairs. He targeted one of the vipers who advocated selling elves from the Alienage into slavery and chased his quarry to the second floor. The future king of Ferelden smashed the flat of a shield into the man’s face. With a wet pop, they heard a nose break and the noble windmilled over the banister. He never rose from where he landed on the ground floor.

Sebastian fired an arrow into the eye of a man who had a sword aimed for Alistair’s throat. “Your majesty!” Sebastian called above the clash of steel and battle cries.

“What a terrible thing to call someone who just saved your life!” Alistair quipped, grinning. He thrust a finger down at the lower floor. “There! Get that one before they stab Wynne!”

He presumed Wynne was the woman mage weaving spells, and Sebastian’s arrow went directly through the temple of an enemy, instantly killing him.

A massive mabari war hound tore the back of a knee out with a gory shower of crimson and screams of shocked, human agony. “Good boy, Muffin!” Cousland finished what his dog began and fought closer to Loghain.

Sebastian lay down more arrow fire for Alfstanna and Warden allies while Alistair did what he could to protect the archers. Most of them had abandoned the station for the battle below, but those who remained were mainly the famed talent of the Waking Sea. More arrows flew, and Sebastian caught motion in the corner of his eye. Instinctive reaction made him flex into a dodge, but a dagger found its mark. The wound wasn’t fatal thanks to tough leather armor, but it was deep enough that he didn’t immediately feel it. That was not a good sign, but Alistair’s sword rammed beneath the attacker’s chin, bypassing a helmet and killing her.

“Are you alright?” Alistair shouted.

Sebastian slapped his hand over the wound. “I’ll be fine. Go! You’re needed down there.”

He was woozy by the end of the battle. Cousland held the severed head of Loghain up by the hair to declare triumph and end the confrontation. Anora dissolved into tears behind her hands, and the fight trickled to a halt.

“Sebastian!” Alfstanna found him and put his arm over her shoulder to keep him from collapsing. “Maker’s breath, you’ve lost a lot of blood. I’m getting you to a healer.”

He was escorted away with the rest of the wounded, and darkness closed in around his vision.

When he woke, he was in a comfortable bed, shirtless, and his side was stiff with bandages. “What happened?” he asked thickly when he cracked his eyes open. Alfstanna sat at his bedside.

“Alistair will be king once the Archdemon is dealt with. Everyone is preparing for the final battle with the darkspawn. We’re going back to Waking Sea as soon as you can travel.”

“How long has it been?” He cautiously tested his healed injuries as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Less than a day.” She brushed her fingertips across his forehead. “You had me worried. That was a nasty wound.”

“Perhaps I should get you to teach me to use a sword.” He felt as fit as he did before he was stabbed, but Alfstanna made him stay prone.

“Let me have a look at it, first.” She unwound the bloody bandages and took dish of water from the bedside. Gently, she sponged the dried flakes of healing herbs and blood away. Drying his mended skin, they looked at the place critically.

It left quite the scar. “That’s why I prefer a bow,” he reminded her ruefully. “There’s much less chance of getting hit.”

“I prefer you weren’t hit, either. You gave me a terrible scare.” She dabbed his chest with a clean cloth and took a moment to admire the lean, athletic cut of his muscles. Her hand wandered from his stomach through the fine trail of chest hair.

Watching her with a smirk, he relaxed into the attention. “I’ll be better prepared next time.”

She leaned down. Warm lips pressed against his cool, scarred skin. “You certainly will,” she murmured, kissing the bottom of his ribs then leisurely placing a half dozen quick kisses around the place where she almost lost him. “Had it not been for the mage with the Wardens, I’d be worried for your life.”

“Alfstanna, I–”

She kissed the center of his chest, making a path to his chin. Their lips met swiftly then she touched her mouth to his scar one last time. “You best get dressed. We’ll have to leave soon.”

He sighed and caressed her lips with his fingertips. “Of course. We must prepare for this Archdemon. I never thought anyone in our generation would live to speak such a thing.” Smiling into her eyes, he sat up and grabbed a shirt.


	4. To Distract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: To distract  
> Pairing: Sebastian Vael/Alfstanna Eremon  
> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: None
> 
> Set in an AU where Sebastian never made it to Kirkwall. Instead of maturing because of Elthina's tutelage, his personality was shaped spending several years in Ferelden, then helping fight the Blight. It's up to Alfstanna Eremon to influence the wily, misplaced, and often unmanageable prince of Starkaven. In this drabble, Sebastian distracts Alfstanna from her work.

An indulged young prince of Starkhaven's reality was rudely turned on its head when he inadvertently arrived in Ferelden. Although he wasn't a stranger to work, his labors were voluntary before that point. Learning a bow was a passion and choice rather than needed for his daily bread. Training the Starkhaven militia was the closest he came to a day's work, and it paled in comparison to people who tilled the fields.

The Maker was kind in giving him a new life which was carried far less hardship than it might have, but he worked more for what he earned. It was particularly true in the relationship with his beautiful Bann. He was always at home in darkness, but she knew all his best tricks and listened for him. It was almost impossible to surprise her unless she was too absorbed in something.

His presence went unnoticed as he leaned against the door frame of her private chambers, a mischievous smirk on his lips and thumbs hooked in his belt. She was illuminated by the stubs of candles at her desk, bent over a document. A quill scratched repetitively against parchment, and her eyes didn't leave it as her hand automatically flicked to the inkwell.

The mantle of Bann came to her at a young age, and her most trusted advisors were murdered before the onset of a Blight. At one time, Bryce and Eleanor Cousland served as models and mentors. Their family was reduced to Teyrn Fergus and his Warden brother. Neither was available for council during the long months of darkspawn infestation and the political morass left behind at the death of King Cailan.

Sebastian gave what wisdom he could from a foreign prince's perspective, but Alfstanna lost many nights of sleep over decisions of rulership during the Blight. The Ferelden hierarchy stabilized with King Alistair, but Alfstanna's habit of toiling into the late hour endured. It was partially how she won Sebastian's heart. His Bann took the responsibility of leadership seriously, and genuinely cared about her people. Her main fault was the times she forgot to care for herself as well.

Silent as smoke, he used a rug to cushion his boots and stayed far enough away from her back that she wouldn't feel the warmth of his body. Still close enough to see what she was writing, he waited until she lifted the quill so her document wasn't soiled with a blot. Her hand was on the way to the inkwell again when he smoothly closed the space between them and kissed her sensually on the back of the neck.

She knew exactly who it was. “Sebastian!” She startled and twisted around angrily.

Running his hands down her arms, he pressed his body against her and lay his palms over the back of her hands. Pushing his fingers through hers, he turned his head so their faces were inches apart. “It's almost moon rise, Love. You'll strain your eyes and back. Is it not something which can wait until morning?”

“Is it really so late?” She glanced out the window at the stars and noted the candles which nearly burned themselves out. “I suppose I lost track of time again.” She stifled a yawn.

Lifting her arms, he crossed them over her chest with his on top of them, still holding her hands and catching her in a suggestive hug. “You have,” he agreed, and kissed behind her ear.

She shivered, leaning into him and tilting her head to offer her neck. “You're distracting me.”

“I am,” he agreed again, and found her pulse point with his lips.

“I suppose there's nothing which can't wait until tomorrow.” She stood, and as he released her, she turned to face him. Reaching up to rub her neck absently, his quick fingers beat her to the sore places at the base of her shoulders. He began massaging locked muscles and she sighed blissfully. “You spoil me.”

“I love you,” he corrected. She leaned forward so their cheeks rested against one another and he continued to work the out the knots in her shoulders.


	5. Because the World is Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing prompt: "Because the world is ending" with Sebastian and Alfstanna in a Dragon Age AU. Sebastian receives some very unwelcome news.

Sebastian combed sweaty hair back from his forehead and lay his bow across the weapon rack. Summer was upon Ferelden, and he enjoyed the cool breeze wafting through the windows of his chambers. Unbuckling his armor, he shed it and checked to make sure it was in good repair. His days were spent training the Waking Sea militia now that the Blight was done. With his endless lectures to new recruits on properly maintaining their equipment, he could do no less. His leathers were hung beside the bow.

After splashing water across his face to cool down, he gathered his hair off his neck and wiped beneath it with a damp towel. It had grown out in the past few years, but summer heat made him consider cutting it short again. Dismissing the idea as he always did, he enjoyed removing the light underpadding and shirt to give his skin a chance to breathe. Stripped to the hips, he took a moment to towel off before getting redressed. Someone knocked as he was reaching for a set of clothes in the wardrobe.

Alfstanna saved him the need of asking who it was. She identified herself and he opened the door to invite her in. “I was just on the way to see you.” He took out a shirt but held it loosely at his side. Leaning his shoulder against the door of the wardrobe he gave her his most charming grin. “Unless you have other things in mind for the afternoon?”

As disciplined as she could be, she couldn't help but allow her eyes to rove over his upper body, thoroughly enjoying the view. “Tempting,” she admitted as she hooked two fingers into the waist of his trousers. “Unfortunately that isn't why I came up.”

He was very good at instigating distractions which ended with her against a wall, on a lounge, or leaning over a desk in a few stolen moments of erotic bliss. The memories of earlier in the week sent a familiar tightening sensation into areas which were more than willing to make them both tardy for the next daily event. “We could change that.” Before he could start anything, she put a sealed vellum letter into his hands. In retaliation he tossed his shirt over her shoulder so he could look at the letter. “What is it?”

She draped his shirt across the back of a chair and cupped her hand against his cheek. “It's from Starkhaven, or so the young woman who delivered it claimed.”

Concern creased between his brows and he turned his face to briefly kiss her palm. “I know this seal,” he said quietly when he looked down. “It's from my one of my parent's closest friends and allies.” Breaking the wax with the swipe of a dull knife, he removed the letter. Bright blue eyes raced across the elegant, thin, spidery writing. “No.” He shook his head and color drained from his face. “This can't be.” Reading it again, he swallowed hard and woodenly sagged onto the corner of his bed. “I don't – I can't – believe it.”

“Sebastian?” Alfstanna put a hand at the base of his neck and peered at the letter. “What is it? Did your family send for you or insist you go to Kirkwall?”

“No.” His voice cracked as he stared up at her numbly. “They're – my parents – my entire family – they're...” The word didn't want to form and he had to force it out, as if saying it made it reality. “My brother and all his children – they're...” Raw bewilderment and pain flooded his expression. “They've been murdered. All of them.”

Her eyes widened and voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “What?”

“My entire family. Murdered. They're dead...”

She sat beside him and folded him into her arms. He buried his face in her neck and took comfort as he returned the embrace, trembling. Stroking his hair, she anchored herself the way he needed at that moment. “Are you sure the letter is genuine?”

“Yes,” he whispered miserably. “I'm certain of it. It's been many years since I was in Starkhaven but I recognize the hand and the seal.”

She gave him a few moments of simple comfort, continuing to stroke his hair and holding him in silence. Kissing his temple, she resigned to asking one last question of vital importance. “Are you in danger?”

He took a deep breath, and anger clamped around the knot of grief in his belly. “I fear so. I'm the last of my line. Whoever is behind this will not rest until they find me.”

She took his hands and drew them into her lap, setting her jaw. “Did your allies have any idea who was responsible?”

He nodded slowly, looking at the opened letter beside them for confirmation. “A band called the Flint Company Mercenaries.”

“They'll not have you,” she declared fiercely as a Hinterlands bear. “You know who is responsible. We go on the offensive and make sure any who follow know that Ferelden may be weak from the Blight, but we're not to be toyed with. We'll find these murderers and make sure you are safe. It won't bring your family back, but perhaps they will rest more easily.”

“It won't be simple. Starkhaven the – my – lands are no longer controlled by the Vael family. The throne must be retaken. I --” He could stay where he was. Selfishly, a half thought reminded him of his happiness in Ferelden. It was his life now, and he considered Waking Sea his people. He'd worked among them, enjoyed their hospitality at salons, shed blood beside them and fallen in love with their Bann. Starkhaven was a memory more than a decade old. If the world thought him dead, he could live the rest of his days with Alfstanna and raise a family together to tend Waking Sea. The next words were barely audible. “I have to return and take my place as their prince. I cannot leave the people at the mercy of whoever is at the heart of this conspiracy – the people responsible for this travesty.”

“I know.” She met his eyes with iron loyalty.

Taking her suddenly by the arms, he pulled her against his chest and kissed her desperately on the lips. He poured all his grief, anger, and desperation into it until he broke away from her, choking on emotion. Gripping her hands, he kissed them then dropped to one knee in front of her. Soul lain bare, he stared imploringly at her and spoke calmly and deliberately. “Bann Alfstanna Eremon, will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last prompt for this couple. If there's interest, I may carry on with it. The idea came about between a friend and I years ago on a forum. We never got the chance to do much with them because the forum died out. It was a lot of fun to write these two and dabble in a different reality for one of the many, many characters in Dragon Age who I like.


	6. By the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebstanna is back. I wrote for them during a Cozy Autumn Prompt list on Tumblr. The couple deals with Sebastian's marriage proposal from the last chapter, and discuss their plans - very sensually.

The fire crackled merrily, casting a warm halo into a room which Sebastian would have disdained in his youth. That pampered, haughty prince put arrows through the eyes of darkspawn, attended a Landsmeet during war, fought shoulder to shoulder with the future king, and had been comforted for inconsolable grief in the arms of a Ferelden Bann. A rustic room with rough carved furniture and thin walls barely kept the howling Kirkwall wind at bay were unfit accommodations for a prince and bann. Yet, after all he and Alfstanna weathered, the idea barely registered. They had a clean, dry place to lay their heads for the night, and he thanked the Maker for the humble blessing.

Sebastian squeezed through the cramped space which barely left a path around the bed. If it wasn’t wedged into the corner, he would have been concerned about it catching fire. They would not be staying long, and Alfstanna stretched in the center of their bed. She lay on her stomach with a pillow beneath her chest, entranced with the dancing flames.

“I still cannot believe you continue to refuse my marriage proposals.” He climbed onto the bed and straddled her thighs, bending over her back.

Their room was lit with nothing except the fire, and Alfstanna closed her eyes, basking in the heat warming her face. “You were grieving. We’ve discussed this.” She didn’t sound annoyed or bored with the return to the topic. “It was an impetuous decision which you didn’t think through. You’d just learned of your family’s death.”

“True,” he agreed reluctantly, unlacing the back of her shirt and pushing it away from her shoulders. “That’s changed now. We’ve come to Kirkwall to find the Harrimans and learn why they betrayed my parents. Surely it would be fitting to face such a confrontation betrothed to a woman with whom I would share my life and title.”

“There is so much more to it,” she reminded him gently. “We must petition for aide, and Starkhaven isn’t a close neighbor to Ferelden.”

Baring her back, he put his weight on his arms and leaned over her. “It’s hardly on the moon, either.” His lips fell in a familiar place behind her ear then started a sensual journey down her spine.

She drew in a quick, small breath. “We approached Teyrn Cousland, but the Blight ravaged many of our lands. All of this will take time.”

“You always counsel patience,” he remarked, sliding a hand beneath her hips and lifting. She obliged him by relaxing to his whims and he drew down her smallclothes down long legs. “I know it’s prudent, but Starkhaven’s people are suffering. I have a duty to them no differently than to Ferelden.”

“You care for Waking Sea as much as Starkhaven,” she murmured with a soft note of distinct pride.

He nibbled the back of her thighs, laying seductive circles with the tip of his tongue on the inside of her knee. “How can I not? It is more my home than Starkhaven ever was, but I cannot turn a blind eye from Starkhaven as it is now.”

“I know.” Her words were muffled into the pillow. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder as best she could in her position. “Steps need to be taken and we both have enough experience to know they won’t all go well, even with the blessing of the Maker himself. Waking Sea must be left in secure hands and we’re still missing the part of the painting with the Harrimans.” A broad smile and mischievous light glowed on her face as she watched Sebastian sit up and shed his shirt.

“Tomorrow,” he declared firmly. It might have been foolhardy for them to make the journey themselves, but who else could he trust? The Harrimans thought him dead, so they were certain to be taken by surprise. He and Alfstanna would be home again before they were greatly missed. “Tomorrow we learn why my parents were betrayed.”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed readily. “Tonight is ours to do with as we please.” From the way she watched him get up from the bed and finish undressing, she knew exactly what he wanted to do to pass the evening. Tucking her knees under herself, she stayed on her stomach, grinning with anticipation.

He resumed his place on the bed, and a soft sigh of raw satisfaction thrummed along her ribs as he accepted the invitation. She buried her face into the pillow a few times to keep their activities private. They weren’t a loud couple while in the throes of passion, but the walls weren’t made to muffle sound. It didn’t matter they were strangers in a new town and unlikely the only pair who would indulge during the night. They both preferred their neighbors weren’t aware of the more intense moments of the next hour.

Relaxed with the blankets tossed aside in a tumble, they ended with Sebastian laying atop her so they could lazily kiss by glow of firelight. She curled the bottom of his hair in her fingers as their lips separated. “I never said ‘no’ to your proposal,” she whispered, meeting his brilliant blue eyes.

His breath on her lips stopped for a heartbeat before he smoothed a hand over her hair and ventured, “Will you be my bride, then?”

She hesitated, their eyes locked. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, waiting for her answer. “Yes. Yes I’ll marry you, Sebastian Vael, but –” she cautioned putting her fingers against his lips as they parted in overwhelming elation. “Only after Waking Sea and Starkhaven are prepared.”

His gaze tilted down, visually caressing her breasts while he wandered in his own thoughts. The only sounds were their breathing and the pop of flames licking wood. Finally he earnestly looked into her face again. “What of children?” They hadn’t spoken of it, but if she hadn’t been taking precautions, they surely would have already made several bastard heirs. Sebastian ceased frequenting brothels for almost a year before Alfstanna accepted him, and the dry months tripled his ardor. She met his enthusiasm with a generous helping of her own, and there had been innumerable afternoon rendezvous of quick gratification. The daylight delights were only rivaled by slow, sultry nights. “What of heirs once we are wed?”

“When the time comes, I hope we’ll have several.” She leaned up to his ear and whispered, “you’re not less eager now that I’m going to be your wife, are you?”

To prove he wasn’t, Sebastian found a new burst of energy and stamina which left prints of her short fingernails patterned in his back at the finish. Whatever might come at dawn, he was as happy as any man had a right to be.


End file.
